So I feel like I should do a little clarification. Obviously, my Tinkerbell (Isabel) is not going to be the Tink portrayed on the show nor is my Peter going to be the Peter portrayed on the show. Instead, I view them more as original characters with a little Barrie canon thrown in. This fic will also eventually turn so AU that it isn't funny. However, I am still going to bring in aspects of the show as I see fit. I don't know why I thought I needed to clear that up. Anyways, I figured I should also give you guys a view of what I see when I am writing this fic as far as people go. Obviously, the OUAT character (Snow, Emma, Hook, etc) are being seen as who they are. Tink is Lucy Hale for me, and if you want me to explain how/why, just message me and I'll explain. Also, I see Peter as Chandler Riggs (Walking Dead).

Anyways, I would like to thank Serahfalcon, Jordan Lynn 7, and .x23 for following/favoriting the story. I really appreciate it. This story is becoming an obsession for me (more than it was before).

If you have a tumblr, please go visit my page (it's on my profile) for the story! I would love some followers over there, and I'll be updating with news and whatnot.

Enchanted Forest - Present

His eyes closed as a cool breeze drifted in from the ocean. Cora said that twenty-eight years would feel like very little time for him, but in reality, he felt every single one of them slipping past. Killian figured it was from over three hundred years of living in Neverland. Time there was a figment of the imagination. It slowed down and sped up on its own, and the seasons changed with moods. Wintery cold when a certain flying boy was sad and lonely. Beautiful spring when the same boy was happy and full of energy. Real time was banished from Neverland, and now that Killian was back in real time, he felt every day as it marked itself off the calendar.

Killian also figured he felt time differently due to the fact that he hadn't taken to see in those twenty-eight years. He had a part to play at the camp, one he loathed more than anything. He modeled it after a man he knew prior to his life being turned on its head; back before he had a trail of bodies and affairs trailing behind him. The man was a blacksmith and more technically his father-in-law. As much as he detested playing the roll of the blacksmith at camp, it did make him seem close to the two people he held more dear than any piece of treasure he could find. His wife and his son. The memory of his burnt house, the singed shawl on the ground, and the whispers throughout the town cause the pirate to swallow thickly. It was so much easier to forget all of that in Neverland, but once again being back in his own world made him feel anything that was forgotten.

Bending, he picked up a shiny red stone and turned it over in his hands. She would have loved it. When he was courting her, he would bring her stones that he found unique from far away lands. She really didn't care for the colorful rocks. He could always tell, but she would still smile. Gods how he missed the way her lips would spread and the way her nose would crinkle as she giggle. If he listened hard enough, he could swear he would hear that little giggle. He thought once he had heard it in Neverland, but he also thought he must have been dreaming at the time. Isabel was dead. There was no way he could have heard her giggle. Some part of him didn't want to believe it. He always believed that you felt when your true love died, like some part of you would feel like it had been ripped from its core. At one point, he didn't even believe she was his true love because of that theory. Yet, when the crocodile crushed Milah's heart, he hadn't felt it then either.

He closed his fist around the stone, throwing it into the water. Certain things about his past needed to stay there because there was no fixing them. He had already sated his revenge for Isabel's death. Now it was time for him to do the same with Milah. He truly had loved the woman despite finding out that she was not his true love either. The more lively parts of her being reminded him of Isabel, and the parts that didn't...well, he loved those maybe more. He didn't feel entirely too guilty about stealing Milah away from her life, especially since he saw an older version of Isabel when he looked at her. Maybe that was why he had been drawn to her in the first place Had Isabel gotten to age and flourish as Milah had, that's what she would look like. Of course, Isabel's looks were always far more deceiving than they first appeared. When he met her, she looked maybe a freshly turned thirteen. Instead, she was almost fifteen. Where he thought he saw someone meek and little, he found someone strong and vivacious. With a flash of a smile and a wide-eyed stare, she could trick even the most calloused of souls into bending to her will.

"You're thinking again, Captain," a voice behind him sounded. The tone was as deceivingly soft as Isabel's looks. Cora walked up beside him, shooting him a glance. "Tell me. Which one was it? Your actual love or the woman you claimed to love?"

Killian shook his head as he disconnected his hook and stashed it in his bag. "I do not know what you are talking about, Cora."

"Oh, Hook. You think you are so opaque about the things on your mind, but you really aren't. Those eyes of yours tell a completely different story," she chuckled.

"Once again, I don't know what you are talking about," he lied.

Cora shrugged, stepping in front of him. "You've missed the arrival of our guests."

"What guests?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow up.

"Snow White and the savior are here," she told him.

"From...?" he trailed off.

"Yes," she answered with a nod. "I don't know exactly how they managed to escape my daughter's magic-less land, but they are here."

"Well that either puts a kink in our plan or it only helps us further," he said as he covered himself in rags.

"I believe it is the latter," she smiled. "If they have found a way here, they will be wanting to find a way back I am assuming. Precious Snow cannot be away from her Charming for too long. We only know half of the puzzle to getting home, but I am more than sure Snow can think of something. That girl is far too clever."

A grin formed on Killian's face as he thought about how they might alter their plan. He would finally get to stretch the atrophied flirting muscle in him. "Shall I glean what I can from them?"

"No. Allow me to do that. Your role will come later." Cora pursed her lips together, and Killian didn't like it. She only ever told him things in snippets; never the full plan of attack. Instead, she would tell him what he needed to know in the moment. "I will see what I can get from them as myself. Should that fail, I'll try a different approach as Lancelot."

"Are you sure that's best?" Killian asked.

Cora's eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't last out. "Yes. I am sure. Get back to the camp and help out. Try and keep some sort of semblance you aren't who you are."

Killian nodded, turning towards the camp. "What happens if they can't help us?" He looked back at Cora.

"I'll kill them," she smiled sweetly.

Eavesdropping had become his specialty. It wasn't really a skill set. It was more something he'd learned to do out of necessity. It kept him alive like everything he did. Killian was a master at living, more so than he was at anything else. He laid underneath a tree near the put, his ear pressed to an enchanted heart-shaped stone. Cora wore one around her neck, and it gave Killian the ability to listen in on her conversation with Snow and her daughter. Even the slightest of whispers could be heard through Cora's magic. It made Killian a bit uneasy, but the magic was small enough that he didn't care too much. It was when she started changing her face that he felt uncomfortable. Not to mention the way she took and kept heats made him remember Milah's death. Rumplestiltskin wore the same menacing expression she did as he crushed Milah's heart.

He swore he heard a waver in Emma's voice when a boot kicked him in the shoulder. After twenty-eight years, Killian was growing tired of being kicked around. "You really shouldn't do that, mate."

"It's your turn to help stand watch, blacksmith," the man told him.

"Well I'm busy," Killian smirked, getting comfortable. The man grabbed him by the shoulder, and Killian huffed. Before the man could grumble, Killian's hook buried itself in the neck of then man. His eyes grew seemingly brighter. "I told you not to bother me." Pulling his hook out, he watched the man slump to the ground. "Pity. You could have been a fair fight."

He watched one of the guards lead Snow White and Emma out of the pit. The blonde woman kept a defiant look on her face as her mother scolded her. It amused Killian because, as much as either of them resister, they were still playing right into Cora's plan. A chuckle escaped him as he watched who Snow thought was Lancelot embrace her. Just minutes before she was telling Emma not to trust Cora yet there she was unknowingly embracing her step-grandmother. He found it funny how a friendly face instantly gained trust where someone like him would have to prove himself worthy of such a thing.

Other than listening in on Cora's conversation with Emma and Snow, Killian felt rather useless. His role in the plan wasn't until much later. Without a doubt in Cora's mind, the two women would put up a fight when it came to helping her. Killian could only imagine what kind of hell they'd give him if he asked for help. Once people learned who he was, it was kind of hard to ask for anything from anyone. Not that Killian spent a large amount of time asking for help. He already knew the answer so he was accustomed to manipulating people into helping when he needed it. Cora possessed her own cunning methods, but Killian was a little old fashioned. Charm and wit were his greatest tools, which he would try and put to use later.

He got as close as he could to Lancelot, Snow, and Emma. They moved through the camp to Lancelot's hut where a chimera was being cooked for supper. As he watched, he realized Cora really was too good at playing the disgraced knight. Killian never cared for him. Lancelot was far too noble and not nearly ruthless enough. Immediately after the curse took over, everyone turned to Lancelot for guidance and leadership. That night, Killian watched Cora rip Lancelot's heart from his body, crushing it with no remorse.

"There are no portals left," Lancelot told Snow.

"I might know of one," Snow mused.

"You do?" Emma asked.

An eager look crossed Lancelot's features before it was drawn back. "Where?"

Snow shook her head. "Cora's near. I don't feel comfortable voicing my plans. She's powerful."

"Not anymore," Lancelot lied. "The curse stripped her of her powers."

Killian swallowed back a laugh. If they believed that, they weren't as smart as Cora gave them credit. Of course, Snow's caution was expected. It was part of what Cora outlined for him. Emma would be the more foolish one while Snow would absolutely know better. Lancelot agreed to let Snow and her daughter go on their journey. That Mulan girl would be going along, and Killian breathed a sigh of relief. She always watched him as if he could see through his guise where even that idiot prince couldn't. At least with her gone, he could live in a little bit of peace. Not that he would have a time to catch his breath. Once they were off, he would put the rest of Cora's plan in motion. He would sew some amount of discord throughout the camp that Lancelot was helping Snow and Emma while deserting them, leaving them to continue to live in fear on the island. That's when Cora would return from following the princess and her daughter. She would take charge of the camp, only to kill everyone there. Killian got to play the role of the lone survivor. How he won their trust was up to him.